Chapter 17 #2
“That’s a very fast decision, Mr. Montoni. This is major surgery with significant risks and recovery time.” He studies me over his glasses. “Most donors take days, sometimes weeks, to reach that decision. Even when it’s their own child.”
“There’s nothing to decide. Leon needs me.”
He flips through his paperwork. I can see the questions he wants to ask circling behind his eyes.
“Tell me about your relationship with Ms. Santoro.”
“What about it?”
“You have a complicated history, from what I understand.”
My eyes drop to the papers he’s holding. I discussed all this with the surgeon, and he wrote up everything and passed it to a psychologist.
“You could say that.”
“She kept your son from you for four years.” He says it neutrally, but I hear the subtext. “That must have been upsetting to learn.”
“It was.”
“And yet, within hours of discovering this, you’ve agreed to undergo major surgery.” He leans forward slightly. “Mr. Montoni, I have to ask, do you feel that Ms. Santoro is pressuring you into this decision?”
I stare at him.
“She hid this child from you,” he continues. “She only revealed the truth when she needed something from you. A person in your position might feel like she’s taking advantage of the situation. Using your emotional response to manipulate you into a dangerous medical procedure.”
For a long moment, I don’t answer.
Then I laugh.
It’s not a pleasant sound. Dr. Whitman shifts in his chair.
“Mina is manipulating me? I hadn’t thought about it that way. She must seem opportunistic in this scenario.” I lean back in my chair, studying him with open amusement. “And I’m the victim.”
He doesn’t answer, but I can see him reassessing me.
Smart man.
“Dr. Whitman, I appreciate your concern for my welfare. Truly. It’s very touching.”
Irony drips from every word.
“I’ve spent four years not knowing I had a child, but now I do.
So no, Doctor, I’m not being coerced. I’m not being manipulated.
I’m choosing to save my son’s life because he’s my son, and that’s what fathers do.
Now, if you’ve finished protecting me from the threat of an exhausted and emotionally distraught hundred-and-twenty-pound massage therapist, I’d like to get back to her. ”
Dr. Whitman stares at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he signs the form.
“Good luck with the surgery, Mr. Montoni.”
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to let you know if Mina tries anything nefarious. You never know with these devious single mothers.”
I leave him sitting there, mouth slightly open, and walk back to my son’s room.
Mina is exactly where I left her, curled in the armchair, watching Leon sleep. She looks up when I enter, a question in her eyes.
“Well?”
“I passed.” I settle into the chair beside her. “Apparently I’m mentally stable enough to donate an organ.” I let a brief smile cross my lips. “Though the psychologist did seem concerned that you might be manipulating me.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Me? Manipulating you?”
“Mm. Taking advantage of my emotional vulnerability. Tricking me into dangerous surgery with your wicked feminine wiles.”
She stares at me with dawning outrage. Her mouth drops open. “I never— I couldn’t begin to— How dare he think that—”
I cover her hand with mine. “I’m teasing you, Mina.”
She glowers at me. “I couldn’t manipulate you into anything. You’re the most cunning person I’ve ever met.”
Silence stretches between us. Leon shifts in his sleep, murmuring something unintelligible, and we both freeze, watching him. But he settles again, his hand tightening around the T-rex’s tail, and the moment passes.
“We need to talk,” I say finally. “About what happens after.”
Mina tenses. “After?”
“After the surgery. After Leon is discharged and we leave this hospital.”
She’s watching me warily now. She knows something is coming.
“Once Leon is well enough to be discharged, you’ll both come home with me.”
“We will?” Mina asks in a defensive tone.
“Leon will need extensive care during his recovery. So will I.” I keep my voice calm and reasonable.
“The mansion has space. Staff. Resources. Your mother lives there. I will hire a private nurse if we need one. You won’t have to worry about anything.
Your job. Leon’s medical bills. I’ll take care of it all. ”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“I want my son where I can see him.” The words come out harder than I intended. I take a breath, softening my tone. “I’ve missed four years of his life, Mina. I won’t miss any more. I’ll be recovering for weeks. How else will I see him?” I pause. “There’s nothing else I’ll ask of you.”
I can see the worries flickering behind her eyes. She wants to refuse. Every instinct is screaming at her to refuse.
But how can she? I’m about to undergo major surgery to save our son’s life. I’m offering her a safe place to recover, with no medical bills, no stress, no struggling alone in that cramped apartment.
If she says no, she’s taking Leon away from the father who saved his life.
I watch her realize that the trap is closing around her.
“For how long?” she asks hesitantly.
“As long as it takes.”
“As long as what takes?”
“As long as it takes for Leon to recover fully. As long as it takes for me to recover, and for us to figure out what happens next.”
She’s silent for a long moment. I can see her weighing her options, searching for an escape route, but finding none.
“And if I refuse? You’ll withdraw your offer to donate part of your liver?”
“No.” I let the word sit between us. “I would never use Leon’s life as leverage. The surgery happens regardless. But I’m asking you, Mina. Come home with me. Let me take care of both of you.”
Home. I see the word land, and she flinches at the implication.
“It’s not my home.”
“It used to be. It could be again.”
She looks away, her jaw tight. “You’re asking me to move into the house that I fled, where I was reminded every day that I wasn’t good enough.”
“You were always good enough. Better than good enough. Better than anyone.”
Her eyes snap back to mine.
“You were the only good thing in that house,” I say quietly. “The only warmth. The only kindness. I want to give that back to you.”
“Cristiano…” Her eyes dance over my face. I can feel her softening.
“Say yes.”
She closes her eyes. When she opens them again, they’re bright with unshed tears.
“Yes,” she whispers. “Okay. Yes.”
I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight to my chest before she sees the blaze of triumph in my face.
Mine. Finally, finally mine.
They admit me at nine o’clock that night.
A nurse arrives in Leon’s room with a clipboard. “Mr. Montoni, we have a room ready for you just down the corridor. You’ll be close by, and—”
“I’d rather stay here.” I look at Mina. “If that’s all right with you.”
She blinks, clearly not expecting this. For a moment she just stares at me, and I can see her considering what’s best for Leon.
“I want to be near you tonight,” I say. “Both of you.”
The nurse shifts uncomfortably. “It’s not standard procedure for adult patients to share a pediatric room.”
“It’s fine, if you’re able to make an exception,” Mina says quietly. She’s still watching me with that wary expression. “He’s Leon’s father.”
Warmth floods my chest at the words.
Twenty minutes later, there’s a second hospital bed set up beside Leon’s, monitors and IV stand arranged beside it. Leon sleeps on, the stuffed T-rex still clutched against his side.
I change into the hospital gown a nurse left for me, and Mina looks away, though not before I catch the flush creeping up her neck.
I hesitate beside the bed. “You should take the bed. I’ll sleep in the chair.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She shakes her head. “You’re the one having surgery tomorrow.”
“Mina—”
“I’ll be fine. It’s a big chair.” She pulls her legs up beneath her, demonstrating. “See? Comfortable.”
It’s not comfortable enough to spend all night in, but I know that stubborn set to her jaw. She won’t be moved.
“You should get some sleep,” I tell her, climbing into the bed. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
“I know. I just…” She trails off, looking at Leon. “I don’t want to leave him.”
“You’re not leaving him. You’re right here.”
She nods, but she doesn’t close her eyes.
“Mina. Sleep.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
A faint huff of breath that might almost be a laugh. She shifts in the chair and finally lets her eyes drift closed.
I watch her for a moment. Then I look at Leon, small and yellow in the big white bed.
My son. My family. Both of them, here with me.
“Cristiano?” Her voice is soft in the dim room.
“Mm?”
“Are you scared? About the surgery?”
You should be, my father’s voice hisses. You’re about to let someone cut you open. You’ll be helpless. Vulnerable. Everything you’ve worked for could be taken from you while you’re lying unconscious on a table.
“I’m not scared for me.”
“How are you not scared?” She sounds genuinely baffled. “They’re going to cut out a piece of your liver. That’s not nothing.”
“It’s not,” I agree. “But I’ve survived worse.”
“That’s not comforting.”
I turn my head to look at her, a shadow curled in the chair, her face pale in the dim light. “I’m not going to die tomorrow, Mina. I’m not going to leave Leon without a father. I’m not going to leave you alone.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then, “I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“I’ve been scared for so long. Since Leon got sick. Since before that, really.” She trails off, but I know what she was going to say. Since I came back to Malus and she realized her lies were about to unravel.
“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” I say. “Not of me. Not of anything. I’m going to take care of you. Both of you.”
She doesn’t answer. But I see her shoulders relax slightly, some of the tension draining out of her.
“Go to sleep,” I tell her. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
She closes her eyes. Within minutes, her breathing evens out, deepens. She’s asleep.
I wait.
Fifteen minutes. Twenty. Half an hour.